After learning about Harry's situation during his years at the Dursleys, Hagrid slammed his fist down angrily.
"Those blasted Dursleys! How could they treat you like that?"
"Hagrid, it's all in the past now."
Harry patted Hagrid's stomach reassuringly. "Besides, I've moved out of the Dursleys' house, and I probably won't be seeing them again. Plus, I've made some really great friends—though they're probably far away from me right now. Speaking of which, Hagrid, is Professor Quirrell always that nervous? Won't it affect his teaching?"
"Ah, Quirrell used to be a smart and talkative fellow. But that poor guy... he decided to take a year off to get some firsthand experience."
"Word has it he ran into vampires in the Black Forest and got into serious trouble with an old hag. Ever since then, he's become a completely different person—afraid of his students, his own subject, and even the staff room he used to frequent. By the way, where's my umbrella?"
Vampires? An old hag? Harry's mind conjured up an image of a wild, cackling man with black hair and a grotesque, deranged witch.
At that moment, Hagrid was counting bricks on the wall above the trash bin. "Three up… two across…" he muttered. "All right, Harry, stand back."
He tapped the wall three times with the tip of his umbrella.
The brick he touched began to quiver, then shifted and rotated, forming a small hole.
The hole expanded rapidly, and soon a wide stone archway stood before them—large enough for Hagrid to stride through. Beyond it stretched a winding cobblestone street packed with shops, seemingly endless in its twists and turns.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Hagrid said, stepping through the archway and turning to extend his right hand toward Harry, his wide grin revealing his back molars.
As Harry passed through the arch, he glanced back to see the passage quickly narrowing. The bricks slid together seamlessly, and within seconds, the expansive archway was once again a solid wall.
Sunlight shone down on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Above them hung a brass sign: Cauldrons—Brass, Copper, Pewter, Silver. Self-stirring—Collapsible.
"Oh, you'll need one of those," Hagrid said, noticing Harry's gaze lingering on the shop window. "But first, we've got to get some money from Gringotts. See that tall white building over there? Gringotts is the safest place in the world for anything you want to keep safe—except Hogwarts, of course. It's run by goblins."
"Goblins?" Harry imagined short, temperamental creatures with black hair, green or orange skin, and small, bulging eyes that always seemed to simmer with anger.
"Why would anyone trust such irritable creatures to run a bank?" Harry thought.
"Irritable? Them?" Hagrid chuckled. "Oh no, Harry. Goblins might look down their noses at everyone, but they've got pretty good tempers, all things considered."
As they walked along the cobblestone street, Harry took in the wooden and stone buildings on either side, feeling as though he'd been transported back to Baldur's Gate.
But now, instead of the chatter of Gale, the haughty remarks of Lae'zel, or the constant presence of his Shadowheart, he was accompanied by a warm-hearted giant.
Outside an apothecary, a plump red-haired woman shook her head as they passed by, muttering, "Seventeen Sickles an ounce for dragon liver? They must be mad."
"Good afternoon, Molly," Hagrid called out, grinning.
The woman turned her head, saw Hagrid, and smiled up at him. "Good afternoon, Hagrid. What brings you to Diagon Alley?"
"Just taking Harry shopping—and handling a bit of Hogwarts business." Hagrid brought Harry forward. "Molly, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Mrs. Molly Weasley."
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said with a slight bow.
Molly Weasley's reaction was far more animated.
The moment she heard Harry's name, her gaze softened with pity. "Oh, you poor dear. You must have been through so much."
After a brief chat, Hagrid and Harry continued on their way, while Molly Weasley stayed at the apothecary, bargaining with the shopkeeper.
"Mrs. Weasley seems like a kind person," Harry remarked, his first impression of someone who didn't rush to shake his hand but instead showed concern for his hardships.
"The Weasleys are a good family," Hagrid agreed. "And one of their kids should be starting at Hogwarts this year too. You might get along well."
Passing an owl shop, a broomstick store, a robe shop, and a shop selling telescopes and other strange instruments, they finally stopped in front of a towering white building that loomed over the surrounding shops.
Under the watchful gaze of a goblin dressed in crimson and gold, they walked through the bronze doors and into a silver doorway inscribed with a long passage of text.
Two goblins bowed them into a vast marble hall, where rows of goblins sat behind tall counters. Some were weighing coins with brass scales, others inspected gems with magnifying glasses, and still more scribbled in large ledgers.
Countless doors led to various parts of the bank, with goblins escorting customers in and out. Hagrid approached one of the goblins at the counter.
"Morning," Hagrid said. "We're here to withdraw some money from Harry Potter's vault."
"Do you have his key, sir?"
"Got it right here." Hagrid rummaged through his coat, pulling out a jumble of items and accidentally dropping a moldy dog biscuit onto the goblin's ledger.
"Ah, here it is." Hagrid held up a small golden key. The goblin examined it meticulously.
"Everything seems in order."
"I've also got a letter from Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said proudly, puffing out his chest. "It's about the item in Vault 713."
The goblin scrutinized the letter even more carefully than the key.
"Very well," the goblin said, handing the letter back. "Griphook!"
A goblin named Griphook led them through one of the many doors into a narrow stone passageway lit by torches.
The passage sloped steeply downward, and at the bottom was a small railway. Griphook whistled, and a cart came hurtling toward them. After a bit of effort, Hagrid managed to climb in, and they were off.
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